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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512929">In Search of the Sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaffronGin/pseuds/SaffronGin'>SaffronGin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In Search of the Sun [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Bill Weasley - Freeform, Bill/Fleur - Freeform, Bill/Hermione - Freeform, Broken Families, Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings, Fleur Delacour - Freeform, Forbidden Love, Hermione/Ron - Freeform, Infidelity, Love, Marriage, Mutual Pining, Post-War, Romance, Smut, Substance Abuse, hermione granger - Freeform, relationship, ron weasley - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:55:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaffronGin/pseuds/SaffronGin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione loses herself in the post Battle of Hogwarts trauma and falls into routine and acceptance. What does it take for her to snap out of it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger/Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In Search of the Sun [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Jacket</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Three years after the war, the scars of the past show themselves.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was three years after the Battle. Every year, May 2nd, they all gathered again for a round of butterbeer, most times it was something stronger.</p><p>Harry and Ginny had left, George and Angelina took a swig and headed out into the damp night, Charlie and Percy couldn’t make it. Bill and Fleur sat across from Hermione and Ron; Fleur was shaking her silvery hair with her laughter, Ron’s eyes were bright from staring at her, his mouth hadn’t stopped smiling. Ron didn’t want to stop drinking yet; he had a hard time knowing when he had enough. Bill didn’t want to leave Ron knowing the state he would be in by the end of the night.</p><p>Hermione felt Bill’s eyes on her and she looked away from Ron’s half empty glass and caught his gaze. She smiled warily. Bill’s eyebrows were pinched in the middle a little, his eyes were dark from the low light in the Three Broomsticks. His scars weren’t detracting from his features as much as they used to.</p><p>She blinked and looked away to watch Fleur radiating her Veela-ness. She did this without trying whenever she had a certain amount to drink. Ron’s laughing and subsequent drunken clumsiness churned something in Hermione’s stomach and she felt suffocated for a second. Then it wasn’t a second. </p><p>She stood up before she knew she was doing it and murmured she would be back. She forgot her jacket to protect herself from the chill but pushed desperately through the door and took a deep breath.<br/>
She turned left to get away from the entrance to the quiet loneliness of the alley. She hadn’t noticed the pitter patter of the rain around her and didn’t feel the tears streaming down her cheeks.</p><p>“Hermione?”</p><p>She started and looked up. It was Bill. He held out his jacket and she hesitated a moment before inserting her arms into it. It was warm and smelled of something earthy which comforted her. Bill's hands lingered on her shoulders, pressing gently into them before letting go. </p><p>Hermione turned to watch him, his eyes never leaving her face and she abruptly looked away to the droplets hitting the puddles at her feet. She felt Bill’s fingers brush at her cheeks and then he lifted her chin, dropping his hand quickly when he realised his reaction.</p><p>“It’s ok, it’s just the war trauma, you know?” Hermione said smiling weakly. She wiped the tears Bill had missed and actively tried to stop crying now that she knew she was.</p><p>“Hmm.” Bill grunted in response. His eyes went far away for a second and refocused. “Yea, it’s been rough. Seeing everyone has been great though.”</p><p>“Therapy helps, Ron doesn’t take it seriously.” Hermione said, then realising Bill might not know what it was tried to explain. He said he understood and related it back to a branch of practicing magical medicine at St Mungo’s.</p><p>“He’s always like that around Fleur you know, don’t take it personally.” He said after a little silence. </p><p>Hermione smiled a watery smile and shrugged.</p><p>“He’s like that when he drinks you mean?” She dropped her eyes again and fought the tightness in her chest. Bill moved toward her, his arms wrapping around her and she was warm against him in the cold rain, her hair smelling of parchment and ink. He pushed her to the wall and they huddled until she stopped trembling. Releasing her, he pushed his palms into the wet stone wall behind her, forming a barrier around her. </p><p>She looked up at him and their breath met in clouds between them, water was streaming down Bill’s face in webs and Hermione brushed it away, but it continued anyway. Bills eyebrows, she had noticed, never once un-pinched itself, as though he were in pain somehow. She was aware of how close they were and that he hadn’t pulled away from her after his hug. </p><p>A sudden thud and movement from Bill followed by a shout of anger made Hermione jump and fall back into the wall behind her. He had hit the wall with his fist in frustration.</p><p>“Dammit Hermione. You didn’t’ have to marry him.” He said through his clenched teeth.</p><p>“Bill!” Fleur’s voice rang out. And Bill stalked away leaving Hermione in his jacket, smelling of earth and drenched in confusion.</p><p>***</p><p>Hermione pointed her wand at Bill’s jacket, a stream of warm air blasted from the end and filled the room with its scent. Ron was peacefully snoring away in the bedroom. When it was dry, she hung it on the far side of the room, out of sight, and snuggled into bed, the ache in her stomach now constricted her chest.</p><p>***</p><p>Hermione magicked the ink off her fingers and finally looked up from her paperwork. All the sounds that were drowned out in her concentration crowded into her thoughts and readied herself to leave. The house elves were finally getting some voices for their favour and she felt accomplished, but it was tiring work.</p><p>Smiling and saying goodbye to anyone who called her name, she walked to the floo network and disappeared in a flash of green flame. Glancing at the clock that resembled Mrs. Weasley’s, Ron’s hand was pointing at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes and she sighed. She had caught Ron modifying the clock to make Work and the Bar the same. He was most likely at the Leaky Cauldron; it was too late now for him to be at work. </p><p>Hermione unbuttoned one button of her shirt before Bill’s jacket caught her eye. Snatching it, she turned on spot and thought, “Shell Cottage.” </p><p>She didn’t think for a second anyone would be there. She wanted to drop the jacket off without seeing Bill, it would be a year until she saw him again, and after last night’s confusing interaction, she thought it was best to pretend it didn’t happen. Her hair whipped loose from the bun she wore to work, salt water spraying onto her face through the breeze.</p><p>She pointed her wand at the locked front door, but it didn’t work. She let out an exasperated cry and turned to stare at the beach, her mind racing. She didn’t want to have to go to Fleur’s and Bill’s place. She didn’t want to meet his eyes again.<br/>
She made one step forward before she heard a click behind her, the door unlocked, and her heart raced. </p><p>“Hermione?” he greeted her, the same tone he used last night. She turned suddenly and stuck her arm with his jacket out.</p><p>“Here. Thanks for letting me have it, I cleaned it for you.” she said in a rushed breath.</p><p>“How’d you know I was here?” he asked.</p><p>“I-I didn’t.” she confessed, smiling a little. </p><p>“Ah, I see.” he said, realising she had meant to avoid him. “Do you want to come in?” </p><p>He stepped aside, Shell Cottage stood invitingly behind him. Hermione passed him without hesitation, the sound of the ocean being significantly deafened once inside.</p><p>“Tea?” he suggested and Hermione nodded. The door clicked shut and her skin tingled.</p><p>She realised she had no coat to take off and sat on the edge of the chair around the dining table. Her ears pricked at the sound of Bill’s movements in the kitchen.</p><p>“Where’s Fleur?” Hermione asked, the words falling out of her mouth in a kind of eagerness she didn’t understand.</p><p>“She’s back in France!” Bill called from the kitchen. He came to the archway and held up a bottle of firewhiskey, suggesting a drink. Hermione nodded. She felt like her body was not her own.</p><p>The tea steamed in abandonment as they sipped on firewhiskey in silence for a minute. Bill hadn’t sat across from her, he opted to sit next to her; they still were about a foot apart.</p><p>Bill reached for her one unbuttoned button, chuckling a little.</p><p>“What, did you come here mid getting undressed after work or something?” he asked, his eyes twinkling in the fireplace light. Hermione’s cheeks reddened. </p><p>“I remembered I had your jacket and didn’t want to keep it longer than I needed to.” She retorted.</p><p>“I have other jackets, Hermione.” He said in a tease.</p><p>“I didn’t want to have it.” She replied in a low voice.</p><p>“Why were you trying to avoid me?” he asked directly.</p><p>Hermione looked up and saw his eyes were again fixed on her. Her face was hardened in defiance. She was feeling annoyed with him all of a sudden. She felt his knee brush hers and it made her push her chair away from him a couple inches. </p><p>“I should go.” She said standing abruptly. Bill’s hand grabbed her wrist. It was a gentle grab, his hand easily wrapping around her wrist almost twice over. His skin felt rough.</p><p>“I’m sorry. Don’t leave.” He said quietly, the fireplace crackled loudly.</p><p>“Ron might be waiting for me –“ she started, and when Bill cocked his head as though asking <em>“Really?”</em>, she sat down again. </p><p>“You know you can come to me for anything, right? He’s a shithead, my brother.” Bill said, sipping the fire whiskey. Hermione smiled a small smile.</p><p>“We never really spoke before last night, Bill.” Hermione reminded him. </p><p>“You’re my family, you can expect I’d be there for my family.” He explained. Hermione remained silent, she didn’t want to go home, she didn’t think she wanted to stay, so why didn’t she try to leave again. Bill’s fingertips met hers on the table, she didn’t realise she fixed her eyes on her sleeve, a stray thread dancing a little in the draft from an open window. His fingers were intertwining with hers and she let him. </p><p>He leaned a little toward her, and when he inhaled he smiled. “You smell of parchment and ink, it’s nice. A hint of salt.” He brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. </p><p>Hermione felt noticed. Bill was noticing her in a way Ron hadn’t done since the Battle, and she had not known she was missing anything. She felt hungry for it, attention, recognition, anything that made her feel more than just “Ron’s wife.”</p><p>Bill was watching those thoughts cross her face and when she looked up, his lips had met hers and she opened her mouth and invited his tongue in. She felt his other hand balancing his body by grasping the edge of the chair between her legs and slid forward into his hand. He responded by finding her clit with his thumb and rubbed gently. She moaned into his mouth and he nipped at her tongue. </p><p>
  <em>Crack! </em>
</p><p>Someone had apparated outside, and as quickly as they came together, they broke apart. Breathing heavily, Hermione rushed into the bathroom and left Bill to get the door. </p><p>She heard Fleur’s voice float toward her, and Bill explained that Hermione was just returning his jacket when she asked about the two glasses of firewhiskey. </p><p>When Hermione returned to the dining room, she managed to plaster a pleasant smile onto her face and Fleur greeted her with her usual radiance and a kiss for each cheek. </p><p>“I was returning the jacket, didn’t think anyone would be here.” Hermione felt the need to explain.</p><p>“Of course!” Fleur beamed, “I’m glad Bill showed you some ‘ospitality.”</p><p>“I’ll be going now,” Hermione said to them both, then turning to Bill, “thank you for the firewhiskey.” </p><p>He opened his arms for a hug, and slightly appalled, she sunk into his arms briefly and retreated, his fingers lingered on her hip. Something she would have never noticed before. One step out the front door, she spun on spot, met Bill’s eyes as he stood behind Fleur and disaparated.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Cottage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione thought it would be a year until she had to see Bill again. She was wrong.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Months passed, Hermione kept her head down and did her department’s work. She managed to bury all thoughts and feelings toward the happenings in May; to feel as though it was a dream. It didn’t feel real, it felt more like a fantasy. A day dream that made her feel less guilty. </p><p>She met Ron late at night, snoring in bed smelling of a mixture of butterbeer and whiskey. She had been coming home later in the evenings, Ron hadn’t noticed and they hadn’t talked about it. It was the end of August now. Her birthday was coming and she looked forward to a day alone to think and work on her passion projects. House elves were only the scratch on the surface.</p><p>The weekend before her birthday, there were no surprises from her husband. She caught Ron sometimes looking at her and when she asked, he would smile and said he loved her. Wednesday, her birthday passed, and she enjoyed finally patching through a new Order on the status of the house elves, a small win. This improved her mood immensely and the rest of the week she got little succulents and cards as gifts and birthday cards.</p><p>Friday night, she was blindsided by a suitcase sitting in the living room. She looked around confused. Ron peeked around the bedroom corner and grinned widely. </p><p>“Shell Cottage mini vacation!” he said, opening his mouth in a huge “YEA?” smile.</p><p>Hermione couldn’t say no, so she took his arm and disaparated with him. </p><p>The wind whipped her hair free of her loose bun again, the ends of her hair stung her cheeks and she tasted salt. It was stormy tonight, and they quickly turned to the door, ducking a little from the wind. Ron knocked, and to Hermione’s horror, Fleur opened the door. <em>Bill</em> she thought. He was somewhere, she knew it. </p><p>Somehow, it had turned out Fleur mentioned to Bill that Hermione’s birthday was upcoming; that Shell Cottage was perfect for a weekend getaway, excitedly saying “She seemed to have liked eet when she dropped your jacket!”. </p><p>Bill snuck in the question to Ron if there were plans, and suggested what Fleur had said, his wife hovering over his shoulder, peering eagerly to see Ron’s response. Ron, chuckled sheepishly, having not made plans for Hermione’s birthday; beside maybe visiting his mother for a home cooked meal and jumped at the idea to surprise Hermione. Ron eagerly asked if Bill and Fleur would join them, make it a double date of sorts. “It would be more fun with more people” he insisted.</p><p>And that was what Bill told her in whispers as Fleur and Ron laughed at the muggle game Hermione had introduced them to, “Cards Against Humanity”. There was a wizarding world deck Hermione had bewitched so they could all understand and play together. </p><p>Hermione was angry, she looked defiantly at Bill as he whispered hurriedly how sorry he was, and his hand held her forearm firmly, he had grabbed her to stop her from leaving the kitchen in an angry strut. Her skin radiated where he pressed into her and she tried to wrench it away. On her second wriggle, Bill let her go and she rejoined the game.</p><p>When the night wound down and Hermione retreated for the night after having worked that day and she heard heavy shuffling across the hallway, she lay awake staring at the shells on the ceiling. Her body ached from fatigue, her eyes ached as though she were crying for hours. Ron snored gently beside her, his back a mountain like a barrier between them.</p><p>Quietly, Hermione lowered her feet to the wooden floor and applied her weight, waiting for the squeak. It did, so she looked at Ron’s back and he continued to snore. She walked to the kitchen feeling as though she would wake the house, but the wind howling from the storm drowned out her footsteps. It was eerie sounding, but Hermione liked it. It drowned out her thoughts. Huddled in a small throw blanket, she heated up a kettle for some chamomile tea.  She stood staring out the kitchen window at the waves scattering themselves into the breeze and the tall grass slanting with the wind. Lightning was lighting up the sky a distance away, too far to hear the thunder. </p><p>She felt a hand palm her lower back and she leaned into it, thinking it was Ron, missing her from bed and felt her back make firm contact with his chest. She smelled the earth and her heart quickened; looking up she met Bill’s gaze and thought about pulling away. He saw the thoughts on her face and before she could decide, he wrapped his arms around her waist and entangled his hands in hers.</p><p>She sighed a long, deep sigh. Bill touched his cheek to her head and buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her smell, making Hermione’s scalp tingle. She turned her face to his and for a while they gazed at each other, Bill’s eyebrows drew together again. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” He started.</p><p>“For?” she asked.</p><p>“I don’t know.” And they stood silent, Hermione let her cheek rest to his chest. This intimacy felt so surreal, it made her feel like she existed. She felt like a piece of her was missing, and she hated that it was Bill that centered her again. She hated that she couldn’t do it herself, and she broke away from him. She walked to the kettle and made the cup of tea. Her chest was tightening again, and she held the cup shakily, sipping a little to test the temperature. </p><p>“Hermione.” Bill said, in a certain kind of way. A <em>look at me</em> tone. So she looked. He stood framed by the dark stormy window behind him, a candle Hermione had lit made his face soft, the scars hidden on the darker side of his face. She was trembling. She thought she was on the verge of tears. But she was angry. </p><p>Angry that it took Bill, not herself to make her realise parts of her she didn’t know she needed. She liked that he valued her the way she wanted to be valued, liked that he saw her and not the trauma of a battle past, liked that he noticed her for the things she liked and wished desperately not to be liked like this by others, but to see herself the way he saw her.</p><p>She leaned against the countertop, the tea settling in ripples with steam rising wispily. </p><p>“Hermione.” Bill said again, he took a step toward her this time. She stood silent and didn’t move when he stood in front of her. The candlelight hid her face from him and lit his face for her. He placed his palm to the edge of the countertop and the other hand with his thumb to her chin and fingers to her neck. He liked how feathery her skin felt. His hands were rough, and she was a relief.</p><p>Bill lifted her chin so that her head tilted up to his; Hermione’s eyes met his and again, she looked angry. Defiant? <em>Maybe</em>, he thought. </p><p>He took a hold of her tiny waist and savoured how she felt in both his hands, working his hands slowly up to her rib cage. She wasn’t wearing anything under her night dress;  her breasts met his thumbs as they cupped them and they brushed across her stiffened nipples. Hermione kept her eyes on Bill’s as he did this, her chest rising and falling more rapidly now. He stepped forward again, pushed one of his legs between hers, and let his chest meet hers. She felt soft against him, his breath was coming as rapidly as hers. He grasped under her arms and lifted her in one motion to sit atop the counter.</p><p>She widened her legs to give him room and leaned back onto the counter to look at him. Bill leaned into her in a rush, stopping shy of her face and burying his face to the nape of her neck. She grabbed the back his head, his long hair loosened for sleep now entwining in her fist as they stayed frozen, panting. </p><p>Hermione felt his lips tracing her neck and held still, his hand was resting on her bare leg, the night dress pushed back as her legs lifted to hold onto him. He slid it forward, feeling for her underwear to push it aside. Her back arched as he found his way into her, his thumb finding her clit to rub in slow circles as she bit onto her arm to stay silent. Bill smiled into her shoulder, the grip of her hand tightening on his hair, raising his head he pushed his mouth to hers. In unison her mouth opened as her hips slid forward, making him push deeper, Hermione rocked back and forth to a slow rhythm. </p><p>Their mouths worked slowly, Bill liked to nip at her, first her tongue whenever it wandered for too long, then her lips whenever he felt their plumpness enticing his teeth. He curved his finger into Hermione’s g-spot and rubbed her clit simultaneously, forcing her to break away and gasp, accidentally knocking the cold, forgotten teacup of chamomile and she slapped her hand to her mouth. Bill withdrew his fingers, Hermione’s wetness making them gleam in the candlelight, Hermione dropped to her feet and quickly magicked the mess away. They were glad they had. Movement from the bedroom had told them someone was up.</p><p>Ron came bleary eyed into the kitchen and asked, “What happened?”</p><p>“I thought I saw a mouse, don’t worry about it.” In the dark of the candlelight, Hermione knew Ron couldn’t see her lie, and she looked over at Bill whose fingers were in his mouth.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione rediscovers her love for reading with the help of an un-named someone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saturday was another surprise. The Weasleys had all gathered for a small get together, Molly cooking up a feast. The cottage filled with chatter, the storm from last night dissipated and left the sand looking smooth and untouched. Around noon, excited chatter and giggling floated down to the cottage from the hill top in front of the cottage. Everyone looked at Hermione expectantly, smiling because they knew what she didn’t. She opened the front door, and her parents were flat on their back, giggling, clutching an old hat. </p><p>Hermione looked around at everyone behind her in bewilderment. It seemed like they had arranged for them to come in by portkey. Harry and Ginny were with them, but Hermione didn’t notice them at first. They walked up from the behind the peak of the hill and helped Hermione’s parents to their feet. Running to greet them, she hugged them tightly and led them by hooked elbows excitedly into the cottage.</p><p>By 6 pm, everyone was saying goodbye, and Molly was tidying up. They all hugged her goodbye and Ron hugged Hermione sideways as they watched her disaparate. Hermione leaned into him and he kissed her forehead. Then he let go. And Hermione felt the cold fill the space he left, so she followed him back into the cottage.</p><p>***</p><p>Hermione was curled up by the fireplace; licking her finger she turned another page. It was a simple classic, ones the wizards hadn’t been familiar with, so to her, the escape grounded her to her muggle world. It was a gift, but she it didn’t come with a note and no one claimed it. Ron had brought her a cup of tea by 9 pm, the chamomile tea intended to help her settle to sleep. 12 am came, the fire was reduced to embers, the chamomile tea sat untouched and Hermione was enraptured by her story.</p><p>A lone candle lit her face and the page as she huddled into her blanket. Noticing that the candle was low, the fireplace was out, and she was cold, she slowly got to het feet stretching her legs and arms gingerly outward and hearing cricks as they extended. She’d been in one position for hours. Blinking into the darkness, she rewrapped herself in the blanket tightly and decided she wanted to finish the book tonight. It’s her weekend, why not?</p><p>Shuffling her feet to avoid making noise, she went up the stairs and headed to the closet she knew had extra blankets and the cabinet that had candles. She heard a soft thud and her eyes opened in fear. Wasn’t everyone sleeping? Did someone stay after the party? Straining her ears through the humming of the wind, she heard Ron’s gentle snore. She knew it wasn’t him. Cautiously she stepped forward, her wand slippery in her hand as she stepped forward and peaked into the extra bedroom.</p><p>Bill’s hair was drenched in sweat, hanging from his face; wrapped around him was Fleur, luminous in the night as her silvery hair caught the moonlight through the window. Fleur’s back was to the door and Hermione stared a moment her mind having gone blank when Bill looked up and saw Hermione. His eyes held hers as he thrusted into Fleur and his hand tightened around Fleur’s neck where he held her from falling back. The writing desk beneath them stood silent, sturdy; <em>Probably bewitched</em>, Hermione thought curiously. Then she heard him grunt which snapped her back to herself and she saw Fleur’s hand fly to his mouth to silence him. </p><p>Hermione quickly ducked away, panting quietly as she padded as quickly and softly as she could. The book would have to wait, and she took a sip of sleeping draught before snuggling up to her husband.</p><p>***</p><p>Hermione was up early that morning, a cup of Earl Grey warming her hands while the other balanced the book on her lap. The wind was howling again, threatening the second storm in two days. Hermione’s eyebrows were drawn together as she read the climax of the story, and tutted in frustration.</p><p>The kitchen smelled of breakfast, Fleur was giggling happily. Ron was sitting on the floor, cross legged staring at the wizard’s chess board; not a piece had moved for 10 minutes.</p><p>Hermione sighed loudly and gulped the last of her warm tea.</p><p>“Not enjoying the book?” Bill asked her, a smile plastered across his face; a left over smile from his tickling with Fleur as she cooked breakfast.</p><p>“I’ve always known this book was heartbreaking and the protagonist did some frustrating things, I just never got a copy to read.” Hermione closed her eyes and yawned, stretching her arms out into the air. “I don’t even have time to read anymore.”</p><p>Bill looked at her curiously, his eyes twinkling with a kind of mischief that reminded her of the twins. <em>What was he up to?</em>, she thought. Fleur came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him warmly, kissing his cheek. Bill turned to help her set the table and they all gathered to the eat.</p><p>Fleur asked about her presents and Hermione excitedly thanked her for her gift of a beautiful necklace, thanked Ron for the beautiful crimson quill. She mentioned her parents got her a work briefcase and Molly and Arthur gave her a muggle jewellery box. Arthur was fascinated by the twirling ballerina and the twinkling song that came on when you wound the lever.</p><p>The book sat looking rejected at Hermione’s elbow. Bill was looking at it.</p><p>“I don’t know who gave me this though, I thought maybe Molly or Arthur did, maybe Harry. It’s a muggle story, a classic; it was very thoughtful.” </p><p>Bill’s blue eyes met hers and the corners of his mouth twitched. <em>It was you! </em>She thought. </p><p>Hermione’s eyes had widened a fraction and when Bill saw her realization, he broke into a broad grin, snagged Fleur’s elbow with his hand, pulling her in for a kiss and thanking her for breakfast. He got to his feet and flicked his wand, magic taking the dirty dishes away to the sink, Fleur beaming up at him with adoration in her eyes.</p><p>Hermione’s stomach churned, and she longed for the weekend to be over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Forest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's the last day of Hermione's surprise birthday weekend getaway. Could there possibly be any more surprises?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After breakfast, Ron surprised Hermione and took her hand playfully. </p><p>“Walk on the beach?” he said, his smile a little lopsided. She nodded yes and they walked out into the windy morning. It wasn’t a bright day, the clouds hung heavy in the sky, a deep blue, like sadness. Wind bellowed into Hermione’s ears like white noise and the wet sand was hard under their feet. The tide was low.</p><p>She looked at Ron, his beautiful red hair whipping forward to his eyes and she smiled at him. He glanced sideways at her and huffed a laugh. </p><p>“What?” he asked, chuckling; the sound was carried away from her. </p><p>“I love you.” She said simply and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. They walked the length of the beach before it started drizzling. Getting cold quickly, they hurried back to the cottage, laughing as they shielded their faces from the now full-on downpour. Hermione wanted a bath to warm up and the only bathtub was the bathroom upstairs. She told Ron she’d go to the upstairs bathtub while he could have his shower downstairs. There was no sign of Fleur nor Bill.</p><p>Grabbing her towel and doing a precarious tip toe as though this would ease the dripping on the floor, she walked up the stairs stopping abruptly at the top remembering vividly what she had witnessed last night. Shaking her head, she continued to the little doorway, shivering a little. </p><p>She had started peeling off her jacket that was soaked through and proved to be little protection against the rain. The white blouse she wore underneath clung to her skin with pockets of air lifting in bubbles. </p><p>
  <em>Drip. Drip.</em>
</p><p>She heard a shuffle behind her and turned to close the door for privacy. Bill’s hand blocked the doorway and she released the door knob. She looked at Bill defiantly. <em>Can’t he leave me alone?,</em> she thought.</p><p>“Fleur’s somewhere in this cottage, Ron is in the shower downstairs.” She said flatly, angrily. Her teeth were gritting against each other. Bill dropped his hand and side stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. </p><p>“You’re getting brave.” She remarked, her eyebrows had now shot upward in surprise. <em>What is he even thinking, doing this right now?</em>, she thought, <em>Doing this at all?</em></p><p>“She’s not here.” He said shortly.</p><p>Bill’s piercing eyes her silenced and immobilized her. Almost like he used a nonverbal spell to lock her into place. His fingers carefully unbutton the blouse and peeled the wet fabric away. He leaned in to touch her wet hair, bringing his nose to the dripping strand and took a long breath inward. He put his hot hand to the back of her neck and let his warmth quell under her chilled skin and wet hair. </p><p>With a flick of his wand, the bath was filled with water, and another flick, the bath steamed dreamily. The room began to get cloudy. The shower downstairs stopped. </p><p>Bill then turned on his heel, his jaw muscles clenched and he shut the door behind him, leaving Hermione half naked, wet, and cold.</p><p><br/>
***
</p><p>After her bath, a long contemplative one, Hermione grabbed a book she had brought with her to read by the fireplace. The wind outside was picking up again, the rain had stopped falling. When Fleur returned carrying a couple market bags, she was spared being drenched. Fleur had gone to a town market to buy a couple steaks, some sausages, and some root veg. She thought it would be good to have one last big meal, English dinner, bangers and mash. She also bought a bit of Bill’s favourite firewhiskey and lifted it out of its bag with a smile that radiated into the room. Ron looked at her as though in a daze. </p><p>Lunch was a light broth, not wanting to over stuff themselves before the big dinner. Fleur floated around the kitchen, humming a tune under her breath, her silver hair floating around her as though weightless when she shook her head one way and then the other. Bill sat in the dining room, facing the kitchen so he had a full view of his wife. This made Fleur blush whenever she caught him looking at her; Hermione’s chest constricted, and she looked away and down to her open book.</p><p>When the potatoes stood fluffed in their bowl, and the steaks (one a little bloody) and sausages rested, they gathered around for their last hurrah. Hermione sat next to Ron and leaned into his shoulder. Bill sat across from her. Fleur twirled away and reappeared with the firewhiskey and four glasses.</p><p>Ron wolfed the food down next to Hermione, the lunchtime broth barely holding him over to dinner. The wind rattled the windows in a gentle ticking sound and the sky was now a dark, an angry blue; not like the deep sadness earlier. </p><p>“This is great, Fleur.” Hermione said, her mouth occupied with some half swallowed mash. Fleur smiled a wide toothy smile and said “Merci!”.</p><p><em>Fleur had come a long way from “phlegm”</em>, Hermione thought. <em>I guess war does that.</em></p><p>Hermione actively avoided looking straight ahead. When they had eaten everything before them, Hermione waved her wand and the dishes instantly sparkled with cleanliness and flew into their cupboards. Fleur’s face beamed her silent thank you and started to pour the firewhiskey. Hermione was about to stop her when Bill cleared his throat. Her head involuntarily jerked up and looked at him. Before she could stop Fleur, the glass was already poured. She smiled at Fleur as she took the cool glass in her hand.</p><p>“Cards Against Humanity?” Ron suggested.</p><p>Fleur laughed fully, throwing her head back, her eyes sparkled with excitement. She enjoyed the game the most out of the group. The evening’s plans were decided.</p><p>They grabbed the firewhiskey bottle and trotted to the couch in front of the fireplace. Fleur and Bill sunk into it while Hermione and Ron took their spots on the cushions on the floor. Hermione cozied up to Ron who was looking pleased with himself. </p><p>Three rounds in, Fleur was yawning, and Ron had already had his fourth glass. Hermione sipped on her own, it was only her second, and it was warm from sitting on the floor so close to the fireplace. It made the firewhiskey pepper the back of her throat. Bill swished his third glass absentmindedly. Fleur now was too tired to leave the cottage tonight and thought sleeping now and waking early to leave would be fine. It was only 10 pm.</p><p>Hermione opened her mouth to object, but Ron’s head drooped suddenly, and he jerked himself awake. Sighing she maneuvered to her feet and nudged Ron gently. She guided him to the bedroom and lay him down, taking his shoes off and tucking the blanket around him.</p><p>She walked back to the living room to thank Bill and Fleur for staying with them, but Bill had Fleur in his arms and walked past her to their bedroom. Bill didn’t look at her, as though she were invisible. Hermione thumped onto the soft place where Bill had sat, summoning her book with her wand. This book didn’t interest her right now, but she couldn’t think about sleeping. She was not tired. She dragged her fingers feeling the pages flex on her fingertip when a sharp pain interrupted her, and a tiny pearl of blood beaded outward. </p><p>“Hermione!” Bill’s voice said lowly and urgently. He pointed his wand tip at her hand and the pinched pain eased. The pearl of blood sat patiently on her fingertip. Hermione moved to blot it on a paper napkin that lay nearby. Bill had reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Looking up, she saw something wolfish in Bill’s eyes. Hunger. A flash and it was gone, he released her wrist.</p><p>“I thought the only side effect was you liked your steaks rare?” Hermione said, her voice quiet.</p><p>“It <em>is</em> just that.” Bill said briefly. </p><p>“You heard me in the kitchen, you can smell me from a further distance. I’d understand it if I wore perfume!” Hermione said sharply.</p><p>“What? Because I notice you, it means there’s something happening because of <em>this</em>?” Bill said, turning the scars of his face to the light of the fireplace. They looked harsh in the warm light now. He turned away, the red of the fireplace lighting his hair ablaze in the darkness.</p><p>“Isn’t there, though?” Hermione asked. </p><p>A window in the kitchen flew open with a bang and wind howled in instantly chilling them. Hermione closed it and gazed out the window. The grass lay flat on its side hugging the sand hills and the clouds moved quickly in the sky. There was no lightning this time, but the roar of the wind rang like an echo in her ears. Slowly, the howling of the wind and the soft rattling of the windows penetrated the ghost of the wind’s roar and she heard a clink and the sofa groaned.</p><p>Bill had picked up his still full glass of firewhiskey and threw it back in one gulp, sinking into the sofa and half falling over. He flicked his wand at Hermione’s that lay where she left in on the floor, and it zoomed to her and hovered patiently. She took it and drank it quickly, like it was cool water.</p><p>“Night cap? Before we turn in.” Bill asked, the firewhiskey bottle was almost empty and sloshed a little too loudly. Hermione walked to the bedroom doors and pointed her wand at Fleur, then Ron and whispered <em>muffliato</em>, hoping to muffle anymore clumsy or loud sounds like banging windows.</p><p>“This is it right? I see you on May the 2nd next year, and that’s it.” Hermione said in a tone of finality.</p><p>“Okay.” Bill responded. It was curt.</p><p>He poured the rest of the firewhiskey between their glasses and held it up in a mock cheers. Then doing what he did not five minutes ago, he swallowed all of it, clenched his jaw and hissed through his teeth. Hermione looked down at her glass and swirled it around.</p><p>Her head had began to feel floaty. She could feel her limbs disassociating from her body, so she put the glass down. </p><p>“Okay Bill,” Hermione stepped past him. “I’ll see you next year.”</p><p>He caught her wrist and pulled her clumsily to the couch beside him. His face was serious, his eyebrows pinching as he looked at her. </p><p>“You’re so angry all the time.” He said, and Hermione could have laughed.</p><p>“Have you seen your face?” Hermione said looking at him; she moved again to stand up, but all she did was sit straight, teetering on the edge of the cushions.</p><p>She felt Bill snake his hands into hers, intertwining their fingers and she closed her eyes. She sighed heavily and attempted to stand, but his hand held firmly, so she teetered more precariously on the edge.</p><p>A loud snore penetrated the din of wind and windows and Hermione jerked her hand free and fell.</p><p>She landed on a soft cushion she had been using to sit on earlier in the night and saw that Bill had moved it quickly with his wand.</p><p>Standing over her now, he lifted her by her arms and steadied her. Her head had floated away when she fell because Bill leaned in and kissed her. And she kissed back. She moaned when he nipped at her lip and pulled away, the noise she made scared her.</p><p>Bill took her wrist in his and yanked her to the front door. The wind was not blowing against it and they were outside, surrounded by the roaring of the gusts and the breaking of the ocean. Hermione’s hair was wild again, whipping at her face, Bill’s had come undone in the violence of the breeze. Her wrist had still been tightly held in his hand, he tried to lead her on but she stood firm. She was not taking another step.</p><p>“Where are we going?” She said as loudly as she dared.</p><p>“I don’t know, away from there.” He gestured at the cottage. </p><p>He turned to the beach; the tide was high. Tall, dark waves crashed louder than the wind in their ears, spraying them both with salt. </p><p>“We’re far enough now.” Bill said. He looked around at the cottage that shone a weak light through the living room window. The cottage could fit in the palm of Hermione’s hand. Looking back to Bill, she linked her elbow into Bill’s, and spun; the cottage disappeared from sight.</p><p><br/>
***</p><p>Leaves crunched under them as they felt the floor materialize under them. Bill held Hermione steady, she had swayed a little too far.</p><p>“Where are we?” he asked, looking around in the dark, the trees rustled with their paper leaves. </p><p>“The Forest of Dean.” Hermione said shortly. She remembered Ron returning some years ago. Finding her and how angry she had been with him. How much she needed him to be there while they did what needed to be done, and how selfish it was of him to leave in the first place. </p><p>It wasn’t as cold now as it was then. The trees were a mixture of green and turning leaves. The floor was littered with a mixture of bright leaves and decaying brown.</p><p>Hermione thought that she was angry with Ron for finding her when she had just gotten used to being without him. She was furious that he came back in what felt like after he was needed. She didn’t care to need him anymore.</p><p>She turned to look at Bill, the rustling of the leaves in the night breeze filling the echoing sound of the crashing waves until that was all they heard. Bill stood still in the dark, Hermione’s eyes adjusted to his silhouette.</p><p>He took a step toward her with a violent urgency, the leaves crunched softly under his feet. He reached for her face and pulled her fiercely to him, pressing his mouth hungrily to hers. The firewhiskey tasted different in his mouth than Ron’s. Hermione pulled away. <em>Ron.</em></p><p>“Fuck it, Hermione!” Bill yelled. He could now, there was no one around. Hermione was startled. His shout snapped her mind into focus, and she realised where they were and who she was with and how terrible she would feel doing anymore than was already done.</p><p>“Bill.” She said, Bill not looking at her. His hands were fists, balled in frustration. </p><p>“William.” She said softly, and he snapped his head to her. “Fleur. Ron.” She continued, her voice shook. She felt what she thought was ashamed, guilt? Confusion, definitely.</p><p>And Bill strode to her again and kissed her. As eagerly as before, opening his mouth in invitation for hers and she succumbed. </p><p>His hands fumbled at the buttons on her blouse as she unbuckled his belt. The clothes lay in a pile beside them and Hermione shivered. Pointing her wand to the floor, she conjured up the blue flames she could scoop in jars and let them crackle to life in the dry leaves.</p><p>Bill was holding her again. His hand gripped her hair to press his mouth with hers. Bill’s boxers were the only barrier between his stiffening shaft and her skin. She ground herself onto him and he groaned into her mouth, gripping her hair tighter. One of his hands found its way to her breasts and caressed them, learning the shape of them before he squeezed softly. He took his mouth away from hers and put his wet tongue to her nipples. Her back arched and she felt herself moisten, her knees weakened. </p><p>Bill’s mouth teased her, and he positioned his hand between her legs. Hermione moaned, and opened a little with a wriggle. She felt him graze her clit, circling it lightly as though making sure it was where he left it, before rubbing his middle finger and ring finger between her lips. She felt how wet she was in response to him and shuddered. Hermione’s hands were now entwined in Bill’s wild, salt crusted hair and she pushed him down.</p><p>She wasn’t aware she had, and she felt his breath tickle her navel, his tongue nipping wetly over her clit, she jerked and muffled a moan by biting her tongue. A finger had slipped inside of her now, curling and massaging, then there was two. </p><p>She ground her hips into his fingers and looked down. Bill’s eyes didn’t stray from her face as Hermione’s mouth opened, eyes closed, and her body shuddered as she gushed onto his hand. Bill licked her clit playfully as she shuddered and she jerked in pleasure again. Hermione saw that he was grinning, and his chin shone in the blue flame’s light. </p><p>She sunk to the leaves and lay panting on the floor, the leaves getting caught in her hair. Her cheeks had reddened. Bill’s boxers strained against him, and Hermione looked at him as she lay catching her breath. The tingling that had spread to her fingertips were slowly creeping its way back to her center. Bill’s eyes didn’t leave hers and he crawled on top of her, resting his body weight fully and pressing his mouth to hers. Hermione tasted herself and squirmed under Bill, feeling his cock twitch against her stomach. </p><p>She lifted her hips to him and he pressed back eagerly into her again. His hands had grasped her arms above her head, stopping her from touching him and he sucked at her tongue lightly. He maneuvered his leg between hers and gently pushed his thigh up into her, making her arch her back and bite onto his lip. </p><p>“Fuck.” He said breathily and pressed a little harder into her. He felt his thigh getting wet between her.</p><p>“Bill.” Hermione moaned and lifted her hips to grind herself against him, which made Bill gasp and let go of Hermione’s arms. He took himself in his hand and guided himself to her slit. He swiped his head through the wet that coated between her legs and placed himself to enter her. Hermione wriggled against him, Bill panting harder than before.</p><p>
  <em>Crunch.</em>
</p><p>A loud cracking and crumpling sounded off to their left, and Bill, looking up saw the silhouette of a man; the light he held pointing the opposite direction. Bill  hurried to cover Hermione with the discarded clothes and waved his wand, making the fires disappear. </p><p>“Who’s there!” the voice called, coming closer but not pointing the beam of light in their direction yet.</p><p>Bill and Hermione linked their elbows and turned on spot.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Disappointment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Months pass with no occurrence. Hermione starts to feel like herself again.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione gazed at the snow that drifted outside the window. It floated softly past, with no urgency like feathers being dropped from the ceiling. She wondered what it would be like to float so serenely. </p>
<p>Ron shuffled past her study door, dragging his feet a little. His hair stuck up at the back of his head. It was 1 pm on a Saturday and Friday night was a blur for him. His eyes were half closed. </p>
<p>Hermione hugged the hot coffee mug to her chest and remembered a similar warmth she felt. Months ago in the Forest of Dean. And she cleared her throat, her eyes focused and she turned back to the mysterious leather-bound book that was delivered by owl to their home. It was another muggle classic. Another heart-wrenching, gut twisting, unfair romance. There was no <em>known</em> sender, but she thought she knew.</p>
<p>Caroller’s voices sang up as Christmas neared. They had gotten their usual owl invitation to the Weasley’s, so on Christmas Eve, they visited Hermione’s parents before taking a portkey to the Burrow on Christmas morning.</p>
<p>Mr. Granger had a wonderful time being questioned about the muggle practice of dentistry as Molly happily accepted Mrs. Granger’s helping hand in the kitchen. After all they were cooking for several households. Closer to lunchtime, there were <em>cracks!</em> coming one after the other outside as Harry, Ginny, George, Angelina, Percy and Charlie came in.</p>
<p>Bill and Fleur were not coming. That’s what Hermione overheard Molly telling Mrs. Granger in the kitchen. They had visited Fleur’s family this year for Christmas. Hermione felt a pang. And immediately breathed a sigh of relief. </p>
<p>When time came for opening presents, everyone had a small pile to themselves. Everyone had been gifted a cozy sweater with their initials weaved in, the Molly tradition continuing. And no one took theirs off for the rest of the night. Hermione found an unmarked rectangular package and held it up. It had the same paper as the book delivered to her a month ago. In a scrawled crimson with gold ink note, the words <em>“This is my favourite.”</em> shone in the firelight. </p>
<p>She had stopped breathing. Immediately, she crushed it in her palm and stuffed it in her pocket.</p>
<p>
  <em>Memoirs of a Geisha.</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione wanted to throw it in the fireplace.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>March came and Hermione returned the surprise birthday for Ron. She knew he thrived around his family and loved his mother’s cooking, so she asked Molly to hold it at the Burrow. Hermione was eager to return, excitement building in anticipation. She wished it were for the party.</p>
<p>She sent letters to all the Weasley’s, even Luna and Neville. Luna responded with a scrawled note saying <em>“Yes!”</em>. Neville forgot to respond but showed up as lunch was finished cooking, a “forgive me” look etched onto his face. He was greeted with a great shout of “Neville!” from everyone and grasped into hugs.</p>
<p>Bill and Fleur did not show. And the Spring suddenly felt a little damper than Hermione remembered. The ache in her chest intensified then disappeared. The anticipation of seeing Bill had gone.</p>
<p>Fleur sent an apologetic letter that arrived only later that evening, they couldn’t make it because they had had plans already and it was too short notice. She sent a small bottle of firewhiskey with <em>For Ronald, From Bill and Fleur</em> on it. It was the same handwriting that shone in gold and crimson on Hermione’s anonymous Christmas present.</p>
<p>Ron was happy.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>May the 2nd, the table at the Three Broomsticks was loud and filled with laughter. The din from the room as everyone who routinely met mixed with the crowd from the battle was roaring through the windows and front door. </p>
<p>It hadn’t been that long after Ron’s birthday and the same crowd had shown up. Midway through the night, Fleur floated through the doorway, the room softened a little as people turned to stare. Hermione held her breath. Fleur used her wand to pull a chair and sat warmly next to Hermione, kissing her lightly on each cheek. It tingled when she pulled away.</p>
<p>Fleur greeted everyone and told them breathily that Bill was called away to break a curse, urgently, unfortunately. She was not however going to miss seeing the family for the third time, so came on behalf of them both. Ginny had watched Fleur’s interaction with Hermione curiously and her eyebrows had shot up. When Hermione caught her eye, Ginny laughed and mouthed <em>Phlegm?</em> Hermione laughed and mouthed back, <em>Not anymore!</em></p>
<p>Harry and Ron started singing <em>Weasley is our King!</em> The other Weasleys joined in noisily and soon after the bar had erupted in chanting and recanting the memorable quidditch matches they played through the years.</p>
<p>Hermione drank her second glass of gin, the lemon stinging her lips where it had cracked from her laughter. Everything felt normal, and Hermione didn’t think of Shell Cottage, the forest, or Bill anymore. Her memory had drowned her shame and let her have some freedom. The tightness in her chest that had felt like it was never going to go away had disbanded. She could breathe.</p>
<p>Laughing, arms around each other, Hermione and Ron said their goodbyes in the street of Hogsmeade. Ron didn’t drink <em>too</em> much tonight. When they apparated to their front doorstep and clumsily fell over each other laughing through the front door, Ron was hungrily tearing at Hermione’s clothes. Hermione longed for it.</p>
<p>Ron led her to the bedroom laughing and pulling on her hand and they both fell to the bed in a loud <em>puff! </em></p>
<p>Ron yanked his shirt off and squirmed out of his pants. Hermione straddled him and touching her palms to his skin for the first time in what felt like years, she felt flushed and excited. She bent forward to kiss him, and his tongue ineptly tangled with hers. She moved her mouth and tongue to his neck, and he moaned. </p>
<p>Ron took his hand and guided himself into her, pushing her hips onto him with his other hand. In a grunt and a loud gasp, he was in her. She hugged him tightly, pressing her breasts to him and rocked her hips. Ron’s hands rested on her ass and rubbed. </p>
<p>Before she knew it, Ron grunted briefly, and it was over. </p>
<p>Ron laughed weakly. “Shower?” and he pointed awkwardly to the bathroom, Hermione lay on her back and smiled at him. The disappointment constricted her chest into discomfort again. </p>
<p>“I’ll join you in a second.” Hermione said, hiding her disappointment. Placing her fingers to her clit, she gave herself the orgasm she needed by thinking of the Forest of Dean.</p>
<p>*** </p>
<p>Hermione sighed and glanced at the two-foot stack of parchment she had laying on her desk. She had gone on to negotiations with the Goblins about the laws that they were vetting to put into place. It was a lot of paperwork and she swore. Griphook was nothing compared to the Goblins she now dealt with.</p>
<p>With a deep breath, she took the first piece of parchment off the top. Mid-way through the stack, a knock on the office door barely rang through her concentration. Someone cleared their throat, and Hermione looked up. Mr. Weasley stood framed by the doorway; his hand held up to knock again on the open door to gain her attention. </p>
<p>Red hair standing taller than Mr Weasley caught her eye. With his head bent low, stood Bill.</p>
<p>“Hey! We’re headed for lunch, want to come with?” Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. Hermione looked at Bill, whose eyes were still glued to the floor.</p>
<p>Hermione smiled weakly and nodded. </p>
<p>Walking behind Mr Weasley who led the way to the Atrium, Hermione kept her eyes on the back of Bill’s head. She caught up with a little skip, she walked alongside him and kept her eyes forward. They stepped into the Atrium’s floo network, and each said <em>“The Leaky Cauldron!”.</em></p>
<p>Hermione ordered fish and chips and had a light conversation with Mr Weasley about the difficulties with the goblins. Bill sat silently next to her. His food was half eaten. Mr Weasley excused himself to the bathroom and Bill’s body stiffened. </p>
<p>Hermione looked at him. He stared at his food.</p>
<p>“Bill.” She said softly, staring at his eyes willing them to see her.</p>
<p>He gripped his fork.</p>
<p>“William.” She said even softer.</p>
<p>His eyes rose to hers. They looked tired. As he looked at her, his eyes welled up, the blue shining through like crystal. Hermione felt horrified and reached for his hand. He pulled away.</p>
<p>“What happened? Bill?” Hermione asked, stung by his retreat.</p>
<p>“I’ve been trying. Hermione, I’ve been trying not to think about you –“ Bill started, stopping abruptly when Mr Weasley entered the room loudly patting his stomach with two slaps.</p>
<p>“Alright kids! Off to work we go.” Mr Weasley said rocking on his heals as he reached for the sickles in his pocket to pay. Bill stopped him and used the motion of taking money from his pocket to blot his eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. St Mongo's</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione makes a difficult decision to help Ronald from self-destructing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was 11 pm. Ron had not got home yet. Hermione sat in her office staring blankly at her parchment. Every day this week Ron had been home past midnight. She glanced at the clock, the one with Ron’s face had not moved from “Weasley Wizard Wheezes” since he got to work that morning. She sighed. </p>
<p>Midnight had been the latest he’d ever come home before, but it was never every night. And gradually it’s been later and later the past few months, but not every day. This week had been brutal. She’d hear the crack after midnight, not knowing how long after midnight. She would always go to bed when the clock struck 12, she couldn’t stay up longer because the office needed her. She barely saw Ron anymore. After the awkward sex they’d had, she didn’t try for any more intimacy. </p>
<p>It had been three months, and Harry’s birthday had come and gone. Hermione tried to retrace when Ron started drinking this much and coming home so late at night, and found it was then. She hadn’t asked what had happened. She thought maybe they talked about something. She could tell Ron was appearing more outwardly damaged and self-destructive than he ever had. </p>
<p>Tonight, as Hermione stared blankly at her parchment, the word “Dear” scrawled at the top, the previously dipped quill nib now dry; a teardrop blotted the paper. She thought about what she needed to do to make him better. She carried <em>Memoirs of a Geisha</em> to bed and sat with the lamp on, on her side of the bed.</p>
<p>She had read one-third of the way through, the protagonist had got her big break. She was doing it for <em>him.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Crack!</em>
</p>
<p>She heard Ron fumble at the door with his keys, dropping it once before getting in. He clunkily took off his shoes, dropping them with a thud onto the mat. She got up and sat at the edge of the bed. She wasn’t tired, but her eyes were bleary, and they hurt, dry from the tears she cried hours ago. Reaching up to her cheeks, she realised she had started again.</p>
<p>When Ron walked to the bedroom, he stopped at the door. </p>
<p>“Oh.” He said thickly.</p>
<p>“Ron. You need help.” Hermione said miserably. Ron leaned shakily on the doorframe.</p>
<p>“No one can help me, Hermione.” He said, in the same thickened voice. His head bobbed as he saw a trunk next to him.</p>
<p>“I packed some of your things. I’m taking you to St. Mungo’s.” she said, staring at the trunk. She avoided his eyes.</p>
<p>“George needs me.” He said. His voice sounded like a wounded dog.</p>
<p>“You can’t keep doing this. You’re no good to him like this.” Hermione said getting off the bed. She stepped to him and hugged him gently. “Do you trust me?” she asked. Ron nodded with a wobble.</p>
<p>With a handful of powder, they disappeared into the floo network to St. Mungo’s. Hermione watched as Ron was lead away, he glanced back at her with a lopsided smile. Tears stained his face.</p>
<p>*** </p>
<p>Hermione got home early Monday morning to an empty house. It had been empty so often that when she got home that she thought she wouldn’t notice Ron’s absence. But the darkness that greeted her felt different. Like an old friend. </p>
<p>Her eyes stung as she made herself some tea. </p>
<p>
  <em>Crack!</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione stood still. She walked quietly to the front door.</p>
<p>
  <em>Knock, knock!</em>
</p>
<p>It was so quiet, Hermione thought she had imagined it. A shuffle outside her doorway told her she hadn’t.</p>
<p>Her hand reached for her wand in her pocket and she kept it there as she peeped through the spy hole. </p>
<p>Bill.</p>
<p>Breathing deeply, she put her back to the wall. <em>No, no, no</em>, she thought.</p>
<p>Another quick <em>knock!</em> and Hermione let out a startled gasp. </p>
<p>“I hear you, Hermione. May I come in?” He said, his voice barely sounding through the door. She reached for the handle and turned, undoing the chain.</p>
<p>“Bill.” She said shortly. She stood blocking the way.</p>
<p>“Fleur wanted to come, but she’s busy with her family.” He said, peering behind her at the dark hallway. “She – she felt badly about sending firewhiskey for his birthday. We didn’t know he was this bad, you know?”</p>
<p>Hermione left a soft sob slip before taking a deep breath. Bill had instinctively taken a step toward her and stopped. </p>
<p>“I mean, I just came to say sorry. For giving him ammunition, you know?” he said apologetically, he dropped his outstretched arm.</p>
<p>“Do you want a cup of tea?” Hermione asked, she stared at his feet.</p>
<p>“Sure.” He said and stepped forward.</p>
<p>The kettle’s water was still hot, and with a flick of her wand, the tea bag and water dropped a little clumsily into the teacup that tinkled to the countertop. She then waved it sloppily over to him, apologized and used magic to clean the spill. She tried again to make him another.</p>
<p>“I’ll do it.” He said, and Hermione slumped into the kitchen stool.</p>
<p>She watched as he busied himself, his back to her. <em>He still won’t look at me,</em> she thought.</p>
<p>“The forest-“ Hermione started. A clink and tea spilled to the floor.</p>
<p>“Fuck.” Bill said softly and pointed his wand at it, saying <em>evanesco.</em> The spilled tea disappeared.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I guess tea isn’t for you then.” Hermione said, mildly amused. </p>
<p>“The forest is forgotten. We don’t have to talk about it.” Bill said quickly, his back still to her. He stood stone still that she would have thought he wasn’t breathing.</p>
<p>“We could have gone too far.” Hermione persisted. His back stayed firmly out. “Bill, we almost did!” she felt her tears roll hotly down her cheeks. It hit her hand, now cold from falling through the air. She brought her hands up to smear them away before he could notice. But he still was not turning to look at her.</p>
<p>“Bill, what you said at the Leaky-“ She started. His fist hit the counter with a loud bang, and she sat quietly, watching him.</p>
<p>“I <em>know</em> what I said, I’m sorry I said it.” He said. Then turning to look her dead in the eyes, “I was fine, not seeing you. You didn’t exist when I didn’t see you. What we did, didn’t happen if you didn’t exist.”</p>
<p>Hermione’s throat felt dry.</p>
<p>“Does Fleur know anything?” Hermione asked in a rushed breath.</p>
<p>“Does Ron?” Bill shot back.</p>
<p>“Never.” Hermione said, her eyes widening. “I could never tell him!”</p>
<p>“But does he suspect?” Bill pried, his body held in such a way, it looked as though it were a great strain for him to stay put. His knuckles were white with the grip he held on the edge of the countertop.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, I haven’t been seeing or speaking to him much, have I?” she responded.</p>
<p>“Fleur doesn’t know, either.” Bill said with a sigh. His body did not relax.</p>
<p>“So, we avoid each other, we pretend nothing ever went as far as it did, and we move on with our respective marriages?” Hermione laid out for him. Her tea had grown warm in her hands, the burn she felt no longer distracting the tightness in her chest.</p>
<p>“Yes.” He said shortly. His eyes were focused on the ground again. Bill took a deep breath, his body relaxed, and his grip loosened. He brought his hands up to his hair, sweeping back the loose strands and rubbing his temples.</p>
<p>Hermione realised she held her teacup with such a tight grip, that when Bill relaxed and she followed suit, her fingers ached at the joints.</p>
<p>“Are we friends again?” she said, putting the teacup down.</p>
<p>“Always.” He said, a shadow of a smirk attempted to list the corners of his mouth.</p>
<p>“You can tell Fleur it’s ok.” Hermione said. When Bill looked puzzled, she continued. “About the firewhiskey. No one knew he was this bad, I didn’t think he would get here.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Bill said, a chuckle cracking his face with a smile. “I will, though, I’m sure she’d like to apologize herself, when she gets the opportunity.”</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, taking a sip of her now cold tea. There was a moment or two of silence before they both started talking at the same time.</p>
<p>“How’s the boo-“ Bill started asking.</p>
<p>“Did you still –“ Hermione started. They both laughed and Hermione said she loved the book, she had heard of it, but again, never got time to read.</p>
<p>“Tea?” Bill said, guessing at her question. Hermione laughed a little and nodded. He looked at her, gazing so directly that Hermione blushed. </p>
<p>“It’s alright, Bill. Go home, I’m alright.” Hermione said looking around. “I have a book to keep me occupied.” Her eyes twinkled. She stood and walked to the front door; Bill followed.</p>
<p>Her hand rested on the doorknob. They stood there in silence for a moment too long. Bill cleared his throat then opened his arms. Hermione contemplated them for a moment before stepping into them. Resting her head to his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist, his arms held her tightly and squeezed. Inhaling each other, they broke the hug and stood close to one another. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. Hermione looked up at him, Bill’s eyebrows met in the middle. </p>
<p>“Good night, Hermione.” He said throatily. And he put his hand on the doorknob, opened the door and disapparated into the night. The crack rang like an echo into the darkness behind her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Blame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione finds ways to fill the empty house and space that Ron has left.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The house slowly felt less empty than it did 3 weeks ago, when Ron had left. Hermione gradually enjoyed the loneliness more and more. She had made a trip to a local muggle bookstore and bought herself some used titles she had always wanted to read. Before learning magic got in the way of leisure.</p>
<p>Her bookshelf in her home office now had one shelf with colourful spines and shiny fonts. Some were leatherbound and collections, and she would proudly admire them whenever they caught her eye. </p>
<p>Friday night, the rain was pattering softly. Occasionally the sharp splashing of a car’s tires would interrupt the steady business. The white noise. This didn’t break Hermione’s focus as she travelled the roads of the protagonists she had now become as she read their stories.</p>
<p>She held the book in one hand this evening, absentmindedly stirring a cup of tea she had brewed for the chilly day. Rain and tea were two of her favourite things, especially together.</p>
<p>Hermione eventually stopped stirring but forgot the tea, two inches from her hand, her eyes moving rapidly with each line. </p>
<p>
  <em>Knock</em>
</p>
<p><em>One knock?</em> she thought. Putting the book down and gripping her want, she skated her house slippers as softly as she could to the front door. Peering outside through the spy hole, she saw red hair blocking everything else from view, and for a moment thought, <em>Ron’s back from St. Mongo’s? </em> His hair was shiny from the rain and she opened the door.</p>
<p>It was Bill. </p>
<p>Hermione summoned a towel, mostly out of muggle habit before drying him off with her wand in a stream of warm breeze. His hair remained a little damp but didn’t drip messily around him. His eyes were dark.</p>
<p>Glancing around he saw the book and cup of tea.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” He mumbled at the floor. “I’ve ruined your night.”</p>
<p>“No! Don’t say that.” Hermione said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “What happened, Bill?</p>
<p>“Hermione, I can’t do this anymore.” Bill said, he shuddered and collapsed into sobs. Hermione eyes widened in panic; she didn’t know what to do. She pulled him into a hug, she let him sob onto her shoulder until his breathing evened out.</p>
<p>“Did something happen with Fleur?” Hermione asked, rubbing his back gently. Then she pulled away, horrified. She blurted out, “Does she <em>know</em>?”</p>
<p>“No!” Bill said thickly. “No.”</p>
<p>“Weren’t we going to be friends?” Hermione asked cautiously. She didn’t know why he was acting this way. She thought they had sorted it out 3 weeks ago. She thought they had agreed to forget.</p>
<p>“Hermione, please.” He pleaded. He grasped her hand in his and squeezed. “Please.”</p>
<p>“Bill. We’ve talked about this; didn’t we talk about this?” Hermione said desperately.</p>
<p>“Just this once.” Bill pleaded again. He tried pulling her closer.</p>
<p>“Fleur.” Hermione said, she tugged back at her hand.</p>
<p>“I don’t love her anymore!” Bill said, unnecessarily loudly.</p>
<p>“Don’t say that.” Hermione said lowly. “Don’t you say that you-“</p>
<p>“I think-“ he started.</p>
<p>“Don’t say the words, Bill.” Hermione warned.</p>
<p>“I think I love you Hermione.” Bill said in a rush. His cheeks flushed.</p>
<p>“No…” she said in a hushed voice. “Are you- Are you drunk?”</p>
<p>“Hermione, it doesn’t matter. Did you hear what I just said?” Bill said, his eyes pleading with her. </p>
<p>“Does Fleur know where you are?” she asked.</p>
<p>“No, I’m away on a work thing.” Bill said in a defeated sigh.</p>
<p>“Well,” Hermione said carefully, “remember her. Please. You love her!”</p>
<p>“I can’t anymore, Hermione.” He pleaded again. “She’s a fucking Veela! I never stood a chance. I can’t fight that fucking magic. You’re as fucking beautiful as she is when she’s got her bloody <em>charm</em> on!”</p>
<p>Hermione stood, awestruck. She was angry. Ron was in St. Mongo’s for his abuse of alcohol, and Bill was now here, professing his love to her, <em>drunk?</em></p>
<p>“Okay, listen. The guest bedroom is made up, I’ll get you there. You can sleep here tonight, but you go back home to your wife.” Hermione said firmly, emphasizing "wife" while glaring at him. “To love and to hold, until death. <em>Remember?</em>”</p>
<p>Hermione held him up as best she could and guided him to the guest room. There he fell almost immediately into bed and started snoring. She removed his shoes, used magic to lift his heavy legs, and tucked him away.</p>
<p>Forgetting her book and cup of tea, she dropped heavily into her own bed herself.</p>
<p>*** </p>
<p>The following morning, Hermione awoke to the smell of bacon wafting through her bedroom door. She remembered closing it last night, but a sliver of the corridor light touched her cheek as she opened her eyes. Washing her face and brushing her teeth, she dragged her feet to the kitchen. For a moment, the red-headed figure standing there looked like Ron, then she remembered what happened last night.</p>
<p>“Hey!” Bill greeted her cheerfully. A bottle of potion sat on the counter; one Hermione uses for hangovers for Ron’s worst mornings. Hermione was silent as she sat in the stool. His back was bustling with movement as he scrambled some eggs.</p>
<p>“I hope you don’t mind me making you breakfast!” he said, turning to pour the cooked eggs into a plate. “You know, to make up for last night.”</p>
<p>Hermione flushed. </p>
<p>“It was nothing.” She said, now wondering how much of it he remembered.</p>
<p>He clicked the stove off and sat on the stool at the kitchen island with her. “No, it was a shit thing, me coming over here. Saying- saying those things.”</p>
<p>“I know you didn’t mean any of it, Bill.” Hermione said smiling.</p>
<p>“I meant what I said.” He said, looking directly at her. </p>
<p>“Do you remember anything from last night?” Hermione said laughing. </p>
<p>“All of it.” He said shortly. Hermione’s smile faded.</p>
<p>“All of it?” she asked. He kept his eyes on her.</p>
<p>In one swift movement, Bill was kissing her. His mouth tasted of peppermint; his tongue curled around hers. Moaning into his mouth, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her onto the kitchen island. Hermione swiped all the newly cooked food to the floor and held Bill between her legs.</p>
<p>Stripping off his shirt, Hermione savoured the sight of his lean, muscled body, rippling in the morning light. The scars on his face were too bathed in sunlight to notice their harshness. She was panting in anticipation as he hooked his fingers on the corners of her panties and dragged them off. He dropped to his knees and she grabbed a handful of his red hair as his tongue found her clit and sucked gently. </p>
<p>Flicking his tongue back and forth, he slid his fingers into her slit as she moistened. Spreading the wet a little, he teased her with the tip of his finger. Her back arched as she moaned. Inserting his middle finger all the way, he curled it and sucked a little more than gently on her clit. </p>
<p>She tightened her grip on his hair and he moaned into her mound. Feeling her tighten onto his finger, he inserted another. </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Hermione sighed, “Bill.”</p>
<p>She bucked her hips with the motion of his fingers and gripped his hair as the pleasure built inside her. Panting, she cried out and shivered as the shot of pleasure shot through her spine to her fingers and toes, which curled then flexed.</p>
<p>Bill stood up and rubbed his cock onto her. Hermione moaned, arching her back. She was still pulsing.  He pulled her forward so that her hips hung a little off the counter as she lay back, he held his head to her dripping slit that was swollen from the attention. </p>
<p>Rubbing his head onto her, wetting himself, he edged himself in. A groan escaped his lips and he leaned forward to kiss her, biting at her tongue and lips. His lips eventually settled on the nape of her neck and he sucked. Hermione ground herself onto his head that had stopped going further and Bill pulled harder at her skin pinching it between his teeth. He left a tiny purple spot and moved to her breasts. </p>
<p>He put his wet fingers into Hermione’s mouth, the other hand pushed the t-shirt she wore upward. He cupped her breast in his hand and squeezed gently. Finding her nipple, he flicked it with his tongue before taking her breast into his mouth and sucking. Hermione squirmed onto his cock, his head slipping a bit further in.</p>
<p>Standing up, he grasped her hips and pushed himself into her. She was wet around him, and warm. The gentle pressure he felt increased when he pulled himself out and thrust again. Hermione gasped and grabbed the edge of the counter.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Hermione.” Bill said and thrust into her again. </p>
<p>Hermione moaned loudly and felt her face blush as she heard herself. She put her hand to her mouth to stop herself.</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare.” Bill growled in the back of his throat. “I want to hear you.” </p>
<p>Hermione sat up and wrapped her legs around Bill, taking in his full length. They panted, their sweat mingling. She sat up and grasped the back of his neck, tugging at a fistful of hair she said, “Like this?”</p>
<p>She put her mouth to his ear and moaned loudly as she rotated her hip onto him.</p>
<p>“Fuck me, William.” She whispered, nipping at his ear. And they intertwined until they couldn’t tell their bodies from one another.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione struggles with herself and her actions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione woke later that day, the mid-afternoon sun shining in through the window. Bill’s bright red hair shone. Her body felt sore, but a good achy sore. She shimmied off the bed quietly and went to use the bathroom. While washing her hands she caught herself in the mirror.</p>
<p>She looked startled, like she shouldn’t be there. The light from the bathroom vent window shone in onto the mirror and she <em>glowed</em>. Hermione touched her face, her cheeks were plump and pink, her lips full, her eyes a bright hazel. <em>Who is this?</em> She asked herself.</p>
<p>“Good morning, beautiful.” A throaty voice said behind her. Bill’s hand wrapped around her bare stomach, and then slid down her stomach a little lower. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, her eyelids fluttered. Her hips thrust back involuntarily and met Bill’s hardened shaft. It pressed firmly into her backside. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.</p>
<p>“Do you see how beautiful you are?” he asked her, his hand at her throat, under her chin, tilting her face into the light. He brought his thumb to her lips. “You taste absolutely divine.”</p>
<p>Hermione ground backward onto him. He moaned into her hair, sucking the air between his teeth.</p>
<p>“Night cap?” Bill asked, rubbing himself into her. Hermione felt his smile on her skin.</p>
<p>“Before we turn in?” she looked at herself in the mirror with a pleasured smile. She didn’t know who was looking back. She looked at Bill, his eyes were hungry as he drank the sight of her.</p>
<p>Hermione lifted her heels to tiptoe and Bill slid himself into her readily wet pussy. Holding her neck, keeping her head forward, they held eye contact as he thrust into her. Hermione gripped the sink and cried out.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Bill left that night when the sun had set. Hermione felt the most satisfied she had in what felt like 2 years. The tightness in her chest now flew around freely in her stomach. <em>Butterflies?</em> She said to herself in disbelief.</p>
<p>Hermione tied her hair back into a messy bun. Loose strands framed her face and she stared at herself again in the mirror. Her skin tingled in all the places Bill had been. She shuddered and all of a sudden, her cheeks were ruddy, her lips dry, her eyes were dark, and she didn’t like this person that was supposed to be her. The ghost that stood staring at her was brewing a storm, and all the butterflies were dead.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The following Saturday, Hermione was asleep in her chair, head down; her hair strewn in a wild mess on the table. An empty teacup and an open book kept her company. Keys jangled at the front door.</p>
<p>A thud of shoes and some shuffling in the hallway still didn’t wake her.</p>
<p>Hermione wasn’t aware of the arms that lifted her and gently placed her into bed. When she woke up, Ron had already fallen asleep. She knew because of the slow rise and fall of his chest. <em>He’s not snoring?</em> She wondered to herself. She turned over and snuggled into him, and he wrapped his arm around her. Sunday morning arrived and Hermione awoke to Ron bringing in breakfast on a tray. His eyes were bright and he had a broad grin on his face. He carefully balanced it over her body after she sat up.</p>
<p>“I love you, Hermione.” He said, and kissed her softly on her forehead. He took a deep breath of her hair and left the bedroom to wash the dishes. Hermione’s eyes welled up.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The weeks that followed, Hermione took careful care around Ron. She had taken all of the alcohol out of the house (stuffed them into her extendable charmed purse), and couldn’t help but ask him often if he was ok. Ron was now coming home earlier than he had ever done from Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.</p>
<p>She was happy, seeing Ron so full of energy. This was the most she had seen him in a long time and savoured his goofy laughter and his affections.</p>
<p>She felt a pang of longing when she realised that now, if she left the house for any reason, she might be missed.</p>
<p>She didn’t want to be missed by Ron. She wanted Bill. And she hated herself.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Hermione’s birthday was here again. She remembered Shell Cottage vividly and squirmed uncomfortably. Her own skin felt like a latex suit.</p>
<p>The autumn leaves had started rattling softy on the sidewalks by mid-September.</p>
<p>Ron had planned a nice quiet dinner at a restaurant that Hermione fawned over. It was a muggle restaurant. He had to use the telephone and make their reservations. Hermione felt her stomach knot as she hugged him with gratitude.</p>
<p>The restaurant was gloriously normal. Hermione and Ron laughed and held hands. They had spaghetti and meatballs then ordered dessert. Ron held her hand on the walk home and made her laugh until her cheeks hurt.</p>
<p>Once they were home, Ron held her and kissed her deeply. Something stirred in her and she fit against him like a mold made just for him. Ron pulled her blouse over her head, their breaths were rapid. Stumbling as they undressed on the way to the bedroom, the hallways filled with laughter.</p>
<p>They fell onto the bed, out of breath, and panted. Ron rolled onto his elbows and supported himself, pressing his lips to Hermione’s. Her mouth opened and she was ecstatic to feel his tongue flick at hers in greeting. She moaned into his mouth and grabbed his hair.</p>
<p>Ron rubbed his fingers into her lips to find her dripping. He guided himself to the warm, wet slit and pushed into her. Hermione gasped. Ron stayed still a moment as she wriggled below him. Hermione’s legs wrapped around his waist. He leaned in to kiss her, then worked his way down her neck.</p>
<p>“What’s happened to your skin?” he asked, seeing a little red spot on the nape of Hermione’s neck. Hermione’s skin went cold.</p>
<p>“I scratched it too hard, I think.” She said breathlessly. And Ron kissed it gently and then kissed her mouth again.</p>
<p>Hermione watched as Ron walked to the bathroom, the new swagger in his step made her smile. She called after him to start to shower without her. Then she laid back and thought of the kitchen island, fingers finding her clit and imagining it was a tongue.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione finds a place to go when she overindulges in celebrations.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Snow had fallen in the early morning and Hermione stepped into the fluffy fresh white before turning around to take the floo network to the Ministry. Her department greeted her with a huge din of noise when she walked through the department door, making her accidentally send her work bag flying. Everyone had a good laugh about it.</p><p>The goblins had finally come to an agreement on the conditions of the laws to be proposed within the Ministry. And everyone was owing it all to Hermione.</p><p>There was a big celebration and Mr Weasley came up to see her, a jovial look on his face. At some point he had pulled Hermione aside and asked her how Ron was doing. And then with his eyes glued to the floor, he apologized that he and Molly didn’t know and could not help. Hermione hugged him warmly and thanked him.</p><p>She felt guilty sipping on the flute filled with a bubbly sweet liquid. The paperwork on Hermione’s desk remained neglected that day. And when night fell, she stumbled from The Leaky Cauldron and apparated home. She stood at the front door a moment, and having wobbled forward, she stood propped against the door. The lights were all off. Ron was either not at home, or asleep early. Hermione glanced at her watch and was shocked to see it was 11 pm.</p><p>Putting her back against the door, her brain spun. She didn’t want to go in and have Ron see her like this. Drunk? He’s been sober for a month! <em>No</em>, she thought, <em>where do I go?</em></p><p>And she walked a little unsteadily to the corner of her street, far enough away that Ron did not hear the second <em>crack</em> of her leaving.</p><p>***</p><p>The wind whipped her hair back from her face and waves behind her. The salt instantly met her lips and she licked them. Hermione knocked on the front door, feeling silly. She didn’t have a key, she didn’t know why she had come here. Did she really expect Bill to be here?</p><p>She rattled the doorknob, then pointed her wand and said <em>Alohomora!</em> It turned, then glowed red hot. Hermione’s heart quickened and she stumbled back.</p><p>“Shit, of course there’s defenses. You idiot.” Hermione said to herself.</p><p>
  <em>Crack!</em>
</p><p>“I’m sorr-“ Hermione started saying as she turned around. And before her stood a very startled Bill Weasley.</p><p>“Hermione? What are you doing here?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.</p><p>Hermione slipped sideways in the sand and landed flat on her behind.</p><p>“Shit, Bill.” She said and started giggling. “I’m sorry, I should have known you, a curse-breaker, would put <em>some</em> defenses in place.”</p><p>Bill took her hand and pulled her up, Hermione stumbled into him and their faces were less than an inch away from each other.</p><p>“Hermione, how much did you have to drink?” Bill asked as he smelt her breath, even through the breeze.</p><p>“I’m not sure.” She said laughing. “We had a little celebration today at work.” She sobered herself a little and continued, “I couldn’t let him see me like this.”</p><p>Bill’s face changed with realization and he reached for the door handle, burning himself as it was still glowing red hot. “Fuck!”</p><p>“What just happened?” Hermione said, looking around. She realised the door handle had burned him and said, “Oh, right.”</p><p>Bill quickly pulled out his wand, healed his hand and undid the spell on the doorknob. He used the key to unlock the door, and soon they were sheltered from the wind. In the quietness of the kitchen, Bill put some water on. While it started to boil, he leaned back into the counter, and studied Hermione, his arms across his chest.</p><p>Hermione looked around and giggled. Her eyes were adjusting. She could see Bill’s eyes had gone dark like that night he was drunk and came to see her. Professed he loved her. The next morning felt far away from this Bill standing in front of her. She cocked her head sideways, smiling broadly.</p><p>“Remember when I saw you fucking Fleur?” she asked him. His facial expression did not change.</p><p>”Why did you come <em>here</em>, Hermione?” Bill asked. The emphasis on <em>here</em> made Hermione wince. Bill was doing it again. Hot and cold, like the fucking tea. Anger welled inside her.</p><p>“What the fuck, Bill?” Hermione said, steadying herself to look directly at him. “One minute we’re fucking, the next we’re pretending it didn’t happen?”</p><p>“We agreed we would, remember?” Bill asked, his arms remained firmly across his chest. His hair hung onto his face. Hermione realised he was in his pajamas.</p><p>“You fucked me three weeks after!” Hermione spat, “<em>Twice!</em>”</p><p>She was furious and Bill had not budged. The kettle whistled shrilly, and he still didn’t move.</p><p>“Did you come here from Fleur’s bed?” Hermione asked, her teeth ground down.<br/></p><p>“She <em>is</em> my wife.” Bill said. Hermione held her wand out, Bill’s eyes flashed. Hermione pointed it at the kettle and said <em>Silencio</em>. The kettle spewed steam in silence.</p><p>“Are you sober, yet?” Bill asked, spite punctuating his voice.</p><p>“Fuck you.” Hermione said, under her breath. In two long strides, Bill’s mouth fitted onto hers in aggression she’d not felt from him before. He bit at her lips and nearly drew blood, so she bit him back, harder. He groaned into her mouth and lifted her onto the dining table, kicking the chairs out of the way.</p><p>Hermione stared at his face, his anger etched across every inch. She sidled her panties off to the floor as Bill unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. She unbuttoned her shirt and released her bra, sitting naked before Bill. He stood ready, his muscles rippling in the little moonlight that shone through the curtains. His hair hung loosely around his face and she thought he looked absolutely wild.</p><p>She put her hands to her clit as she watched him, and he grabbed her wrists.</p><p>“No you don’t.” He growled. “You’ll get no pleasure from this.” Grabbing both her wrists in one of his hands, he held them above her head, used his shirt and tied them to the top of a chair.</p><p>He pushed her knees apart and put his mouth to her slit and licked. He inserted his tongue and Hermione wriggled.</p><p>“Is this what you wanted?” Bill said, and he gripped her legs tightly. “ Do not move.”</p><p>He flicked at her clit three times with his tongue, wetting it and then blew until it tingled. Hermione squirmed and Bill tightened his grip on her thighs.</p><p>When she settled, he flicked at her clit with his tongue again and blew, then licked her wetness out of her. Releasing one of her legs, Hermione being careful not to move, he put his middle finger into his mouth to wet it. Hermione watched him as he inserted his finger into her and he curled it upward. Her back arched but she did not squirm.</p><p>“Good. You’re learning.” Bill said. He inserted another finger and moved it smoothly in and out of her. Hermione’s clit throbbed with lack of attention. She was about to squirm when Bill rewarded her with the sweet relief of his tongue and mouth as he gently tugged and licked it.</p><p>In a rush, Hermione gushed onto his fingers and Bill cleaned them off. He buried his tongue into her pussy, licking what of her he could. Then climbing onto her, his cock rubbing on her while she was sensitive, she squirmed. Bill’s face clouded over and he kissed her. She tasted sweet, of the cocktails she drank that night.</p><p>Bill pinched her nipples before guiding his cock to her dripping gash and Hermione’s eyes pleaded.</p><p>“Fuck me, William.” She whispered.</p><p>Bill thrust into her to hear her scream. He yanked at her hair to expose her throat and bit at her skin. Hermione whimpered as he buried his length in her, the table thumping and scraping back. Hermione’s wrists stung and she wrapped her legs around him. He pushed her knees down.</p><p>“No.” Pulling out of her, flipped her over with a strength Hermione didn’t know he had. Her arms twisted around above her, still tied to the chair. She arched her back. Parting her lips with his fingers, he inserted them. One, two, then three. Hermione buried her face to her shoulder and squirmed. </p><p>Bill surveyed her, and a smirk settled on his face. He leaned over her pressing himself against her back and whispered in her ear, his tongue flicked at it, “Do you want me back inside you?”</p><p>“Yes!” Hermione whimpered. He grasped her hair in his fist, yanked it back, and thrust roughly into her, holding onto her throat. When he felt her cream around him, he thrust faster still, giving her no relief.</p><p>***</p><p>The morning after, Hermione had snuck home before the sun had risen. She took a gulp of the hangover medicine and dropped heavily into the guest bed. She thought, <em>This smells like Bill</em>, before she drifted to sleep.</p><p>When she woke up 7 am, she poured a gulp worth of wideye potion into her coffee and headed to work.</p><p>That evening, when she got home an hour before Ron, and she washed her thoughts away, her thighs ached. Standing before the mirror, her eyes had bags, and her eyes were soulless. The lights had gone out in her eyes. She did not think she liked Bill anymore.</p><p> She sat in darkness as the sun set and the light faded.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Invitation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The aftermath of the guilt is faced head on.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An owl greeted Hermione one morning, a beautiful brown proud bird. A letter from Fleur was attached. She talked of it being Bill’s birthday and how she would love to have a party for him, but he had to work a little too far away from home to make it back in a reasonable time. She said they could send Bill gifts and she’d make sure everyone got a thank you letter.</p><p>Hermione got the three books Bill had sent her and wrapped them. She scrawled “Happy Birthday, from Ron and Hermione” and used a sticky charm to adhere it to the package.</p><p>On a Saturday at the end of November, a knock rang at the door. Hermione glanced at Ron’s hand on the clock, and it pointed to the Burrow. He and George had gone for a visit. Hermione patted her wand in her pocket and peered through the spy hole. A mop of red hair obscured the view. She unlocked the door and Bill stood unsteadily before her.</p><p>“Hermione.” He said, slurring a little.</p><p>“Ron’s not here, Bill.” She knew Ron wasn’t who he wanted to see.</p><p>“I came to see you, Hermione.” Her slurred.</p><p>“What happened, Bill, that’s never going to happen again.” Hermione said, and she shut the door.</p><p>***</p><p>A week went by, and Hermione sent the books. One big owl was able to carry them, he looked a little chuffed when Hermione stopped scratching his chin to shoo him off.</p><p>Hermione decided to surprise Ron at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes on the last Saturday of the month. She got a room at the Leaky Cauldron to stay in and read, to be away from the house.</p><p>As she sat at the tiny desk at the window, an owl fluttered to her, a light fluffy thing. Hermione put a knot in his pouch and he took off. The letter made her heart skip a beat. It was Bill’s. What did he want? Hermione thought ruefully as she opened it.</p><p>“<em>Meet me in room 305.</em>”</p><p>Hermione shook her head. No. She wasn’t going to. She told him no, and rudely too. She wasn’t going to see him. <em>He was here?</em> She asked herself curiously.</p><p>She read the same page three times before putting it away and checking out of the room. She headed over to the Joke Shop and was barraged by loud bangs and pops as customers used the test products before deciding on a purchase.</p><p>She wandered around a bit, enjoying the joy that filled the air so noisily with laughter. She forgot about the silly invitation.</p><p>She found Ron talking to some thrilled teenagers; she watched him from a distance as he told them where to find exactly what they were looking for. He saw her as she beamed up at him and walked over to her. He gave her a peck on the lips and pulled out a flower from behind his back. When Hermione held it, it yelled “PSYCH!” so loudly she dropped it and George started cackling from atop the stairs.</p><p>Hermione watched Ron work for a bit, curious about the new toys and tricks her husband had been creating. She saw how well Ron was doing and guilt welled inside of her. She needed to go to Bill and tell him to stop. No more letters, no showing up at the house. And in return, so would she.</p><p>Hermione told Ron she had forgotten something at the Leaky Cauldron, which was true, she had checked out but had left her book, so she pecked him goodbye and strode steadfastly to the now bustling bar.</p><p>When she entered the corridor on the third floor, the air mysteriously fell silent. And there was a rhythmic thud coming from the end of the hall. And panting. Hermione shook her head in a smile and walked past the doors looking for “305”.</p><p>To her horror, the door from which behind the thudding and moaning floated through had 305 across it in brilliant golden letters. Hermione stood there, wondering if Bill had called her over just so she could see him having sex with Fleur again, then shook her head.</p><p><em>No, Fleur said he would be away for work. And either way, this door is closed!</em> She thought.</p><p>Hermione breathed heavily, the door creaked open, the noise from within increased, the rhythm became an echo in the corridor. Bill was staring right at her, his wand pointed at the door. He had charmed it open. A woman with long jet black hair was wrapped around him, his hair fell in sweaty strings across his face.</p><p>And Bill looked at Hermione, and <em>smirked</em>. He thrust roughly into the faceless woman and her screams of pleasure sounded like an embarrassing recording of Hermione’s own cries. Tears welling in her eyes, she stumbled back, and half ran out of the Leaky Cauldron.</p><p>***</p><p>Hermione rushed back the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes and was sweaty by the time she got there. She stopped before the corner and used <em>scourgify</em> on her face to wipe the tears up before heading in to see Ron again. She explained to him that something she ate at the Leaky Cauldron made her sick and she wasn’t feeling well. She wanted to go home.</p><p>Ron insisted she use the floo network to get home, and Hermione promised she would. Terrified to see him, Hermione dragged her feet slowly back. In the time it took her to get there, she became furious. She scribbled a hasty note for Tom, the barkeep,  to leave at room 305 and disappeared into the green flame.</p><p>She climbed out of the empty fireplace in their living room. Looking around, Hermione watched the clock. Ron’s arm still pointed at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. Her watch said she had 2 hours before Ron gets off work. Hermione used <em>scourgify</em> on her boots to avoid tracking soot through the house and stepped out the front door onto the sidewalk to apparate.</p><p>With a crack and a sharp pulling in her navel, she found herself back at Shell Cottage. The wind wasn’t as fierce today, her bun stayed firmly in place. She looked around and stared at the beach. The far end seemed so far away now. The sky was grey, but the wind was too quiet. Everything almost stood still.</p><p>
  <em>Crack!</em>
</p><p>Bill apparated next to her, his sweaty hair not any different than she’d seen an hour ago.</p><p>He had a wicked smirk across his face, his eyes were sparkling with mischief she had not recognised, much like his aggression from their last fuck.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Hermione demanded, appalled at his appearance. As though he came directly from the room, and wanted Hermione to know it.</p><p>“Whatever I want, since you don’t want me anymore.” Bill said smoothly. He leaned his back against the front door.</p><p>“We aren’t supposed to be sleeping together!” Hermione said in disbelief.</p><p>“You can to me drunk, remember? You wanted me then.” He said, his intent to hurt.</p><p>“You were happy to oblige of course.” Hermione retorted snarkily.</p><p>“You returned my gifts.” He said dryly.</p><p>“I didn’t want them anymore.” She said quickly.</p><p>“Didn’t want to think of me inside you?” he said, stepping toward her. Hermione took a step back.</p><p>“Bill. What the hell?” Hermione asked, she studied him up and down. And she realised. Ron had turned to alcohol, and Bill had turned to, <em>what?</em> She thought. <em>What is he right now?</em></p><p>“Bill, you need help. You will hurt everyone, including yourself.” Hermione pleaded.</p><p>“I don’t give a fuck about me.” Bill growled.</p><p>“Fleur. You’ll hurt her!” she said hastily, desperate to make him see reason. He wasn’t as understanding about rehabilitation as Ron had been.</p><p>Bill stood still for a moment, he looked as though he was about to say “I don’t give a fuck about her either.” But couldn’t.</p><p>“You’ve already hurt her.” Hermione explained. And she felt ashamed so wholly for the first time, she felt like sinking into the sand and never returning.</p><p>She raised her hands to him, as though in surrender and smiled sadly at him.</p><p>“I’m going to go now, William.” She said softly. Her eyes had welled up with tears. Taking a step back, turning on her heels and ripping her eyes from his piercing blue gaze, she disapparated.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, if you're interested in following Bill's story, I did a follow up called "To Outrun the Moon".</p><p>Thanks for reading, hope you've enjoyed it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione woke early the next morning and looked at herself in the mirror. The light had not crept into the room and started bouncing off the walls to make everything glow yet. Her face was hollow in the cheeks and her freckles stood out in the darkness. Her eyes were pits going so deep into darkness, she forgot they were brown.</p><p>She continued in the darkness; she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She sat for a moment on the edge of the bed, sinking in for a moment. She listened to Ron’s quiet breathing.</p><p>When he hadn’t stirred, she got up and made eggs, toast, baked beans, bacon, sausages, and black pudding. By the time she had put it all together, Ron walked stretching into the kitchen grinning broadly.</p><p>“What’s all this?” He said with a yawn warping “this”.</p><p>“Thought you deserved a proper breakfast for all the hard work you’ve done.” Hermione smiled, she knew it didn’t go to her eyes. Ron was too sleepy to notice.</p><p>“Why don’t you go and wash your face, brush your teeth. Come enjoy this breakfast with me.” She encouraged. Ron’s mouth looked as though drool might find its way down his shirt. He groaned with impatience and then he shuffled back to the bathroom.</p><p>She made him a plate and sat; her own plate laid abandoned on the countertop. She propped her chin on her hands, her elbows on the table, her eyes unfocused, and replayed memories from last year’s May the 2nd.</p><p><em>“You didn’t have to marry him.” Bill had said.</em> She supposed he was right.</p><p>When Ron was done with all his breakfast, too hungry to notice Hermione didn’t have a bit, he leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach gratefully.</p><p>The following weeks Hermione did her best to reward Ron for how well he had been doing. She used the time to mentally prepare herself for the words she would have to say to him, sitting in the kitchen morning after morning. The kitchen where she lost herself when she had thought she was lost the entire time.</p><p>On a particularly sunny Sunday, Hermione had made the best lunch she could. She thought back on when she didn’t know how to cook at all, the times in the Forest of Dean with Harry and Ron. They were so young and knew nothing about surviving then, and they survived.</p><p>She was still young. </p><p>She looked up from her distant gaze to Ron’s face. She noticed it was a little plumper lately,  and she smiled sadly.</p><p>Hermione turned her chair to face him and then took his hands.</p><p>“Ron. I have to tell you something.” She said quietly. The shame washed over her again.</p><p>“Hermione?” Ron said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His hands slipped from hers.</p><p>“I need you to not hate me.” She said carefully. “I need you to try to understand. I also know this is on me completely.”</p><p>Ron’s eyes were frightened, he was seeing something of his slipping away. He saw that grasping for it would only hurt it.</p><p>“I don’t-“ he started, “What happened?” he sat up.</p><p>“I slept with someone; when you were in St. Mongo’s.” She said carefully, she kept her eyes on his wedding band, a vibrant gold on his pink skin. “It was my fault.”</p><p>Ron’s scared expression turned to pain, his face contorted as though he got stabbed in his side, and then someone twisted the knife.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Ron.” She said, daring to look at his eyes. Red splotches blotted his face, tears building up in his blue eyes.</p><p>The sun hadn’t crept in through the windows yet in their beams of light. The kitchen felt dark, even with the light turned on. It echoed off the walls making everything look dirty in their failure to brighten sufficiently.</p><p>“It was my drinking wasn’t it?” he asked as the first tear fell. His voice was hushed. Hermione shook her head.</p><p>“No, Ron. You cannot blame yourself. Don’t you understand? <em>I</em> did this.” She said gently. She cupped his cheek in her hand.</p><p>“That’s – this is ok,” he started. His eyes moved as though reading paper before him. He was thinking hard, then with his voice thick he said, “I love you, I’m not going to leave you because of one fuck up.”</p><p>“Ron. Please. Listen.” Hermione said carefully. She stood up. <em>You and I aren’t working right now</em>, she thought but said instead. “You’ve turned your life around, you get to be free of that poison. I will only drive you back to it.”</p><p>“No.” Ron said, he grasped at her greedily, desperately. He bunched her clothes in loose fists, gripping her skin underneath. Hermione took his hands in hers and gently removed them.</p><p>“You have to find the sun,” Hermione said calmly. “It’s right there, it’s inside of you. You don’t <em>need</em> me.”</p><p>His shoulders heaved.</p><p>“You got me better, Hermione!” He pleaded. Hermione took his face into her hands and bent to kiss him on his forehead.</p><p>“Darling,” she said softly, “Only you can save you, I just showed you a way out. Now that you know your way out, you cannot get lost.”</p><p>She said this knowing he had his family, and once she was gone, they would be there for him.</p><p>And bending to kiss the bright red hair, she walked to the front door and heaved at a trunk that lay hidden in the coat closet. She opened the front door. When she looked back as she closed it, Ron’s face was buried in his hands, and she felt a pang of guilt.</p><p>Turning on spot, she apparated.</p><p>***</p><p>When she appeared, she stood calf-deep in fluff. The clearing she remembered at the Forest of Dean was an untouched blanket of white. Hermione took a deep breath of cold, sharp air and for once the ache in her chest felt physically present. She watched her breath expel from her, like a visual representation of her pain and sadness.</p><p>She giggled and flopped back into the bed of snow, throwing her hands above her head. She was instantly buried in the cold. Everything was quiet and a beautiful shade of blue. </p><p>Sitting up, she flicked her wand and her coat instantly cleaned itself. Light fell in thick beams around her. The snow glittered like a million tiny jewels begging to be picked.</p><p>Hermione looked up through the trees, and the startlingly blue sky was clear. The Sun shone his happy face onto hers, warming her inside and out.</p>
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